


The Predation of Snufkin Chair

by Doceo_Percepto



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Crack, Incest, M/M, Rape?, Snufkin is a chair okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 05:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19419502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto
Summary: The Joxter meets his son, Snufkin Chair, for the first time. His intentions are not innocent.





	The Predation of Snufkin Chair

**Author's Note:**

> Someone named shiea asked if I could make a Joxter x Snufkin chair fic. I am burdened by glorious purpose.

As a whole, the Joxterconsidered himself quite peaceful. 

He was proud to say he had simple amusements, which largely involved harassing Hemulens by stealing their tools, pantsing them, tearing down their signs and fencing, and introducing rabbits to their gardens. When he wasn’t being a general nuisance, the Joxter enjoyed long afternoon naps, preferably perched amongst round ripe fruit that tickled his nostrils with citrusy sweetness. 

A simple life, with simple demands, and the Joxter never thought a thing of it. 

And then, one day, there was a letter. A crumpled and dirt-smudged letter, delivered by a very harried-looking courier who complained all too much about how difficult the Joxter had been to find. 

When the Joxter opened the letter (which indeed, quite surprisingly, had his own name on the front, no mistake!), he found a tidy bit of paper folded inside, written upon with flowing elegant handwriting. 

The letter was addressed from an individual called Moominmamma. She informed the Joxter that her husband, Moominpappa, had just completed a memoir concerning his adventure. Moominmamma wished for all the friends in Moominpappa’s life to gather together at the Moomin’s house for one big surprise dinner. 

The Joxter puffed on his pipe, and considered the letter. The old Moomin place, that’s somewhere he hadn’t been in a great many years. And old Moomin had gotten married! A surprise dinner. The whole affair sounded rather noisy, as the Joxter was sure a social individual like Moomin would have made a great many friends in his lifetime. And if Moominmamma was inviting such people as the Joxter, who hadn’t spoken to Moomin many years, then the place would undoubtedly be packed. 

No, the whole deal sounded like a touch too much work. The Joxter had found an exemplary peach tree with strong branches to sleep upon. He was content staying here, thank you very much. 

But before tossing away the letter, there was a line that stuck out to him, that made him hum and haw. 

_… double as a family reunion,_ the letter said, _with young Snufkin and Sniff._

Snufkin. What a funny little feeling that word put in his belly. He knew of Snufkins, of course, and had seen one or two on the occasion, but never paid them much mind. And yet, this one mention of a Snufkin gave him something not unlike a Foreboding – and yet not at all like a Foreboding, because it was a wholly _agreeable_ feeling. 

The Joxter stuffed the letter in his pocket and plucked a nearby peach, rubbing his thumb over the soft furs of his skin. Perhaps he would go after all.

* * *

Reuniting, the Joxter decided, was not so bad. The Mymble was there, as strikingly terrifying and beautiful as ever, and the Joxter felt both cowed and titillated. Then the Muddler was there, and the Joxter gleefully explained to him his latest adventure setting a Park Keeper’s dogs loose. Kitties ran and bounced everywhere, all too noisy, and Hodgkins went on about his latest inventions. 

Altogether they spilled into the Moomin house, joined with the mass of people already there and became one buzzing entity filling all the empty spaces of the house. It was gloriously and nauseatingly domestic. 

The Joxter was just beginning to think this was too much fuss for him, and he might prefer to curl upon an armoire or on the roof, when one face stood out from the crowd.

It was a round face, with curious young eyes half covered by the brim of his flower-adorned hat. This head, distinctly two-dimensional, was perched above hands neatly clasped. He looked docile, gentle, as if ready to welcome any person that may choose to place their rear on the seat of his body - for he was, indeed, a chair, whose front legs ended in oversized backward-facing feet. 

The Joxter’s whiskers twitched in interest. The rambunctious chattering and gossiping continued on around them, as if apart from them. Snufkin made no noise. In fact, the Joxter wasn’t sure if Snufkin _could_ make a noise. He seemed frozen, his plastic face smiling to perpetuity. The Joxter realized that he might be able to do anything, anything at all, to this Snufkin Chair, and nobody at all would hear or know.

The Joxter never considered himself a violent man, but the thoughts that excitedly flowed through his head at this prospect… well, there was no denying they were sinister. 

“Ah!” A loud cry suddenly interrupted his musings. 

Moominpappa trotted into sight. “Joxter, I see you’ve met your son! Snufkin Chair! Doesn’t he take after you?”

“Very much so,” the Joxter agreed, heart racing. His own son? Of course, the Joxter had had a fling or two with a Mymble, but he never realized those endeavors had born fruit… especially not fruit so delicious as this. 

“He’s a fantastic friend to my dear Moomin,” Moominpappa continued on, patting the rigid top of Snufkin’s hat. “Listens to his stories for hours. Truly remarkable.”

“Indeed, I can see he is a good a listener. I should hope to have some alone time with him, to catch up… learn everything I have missed as his father.”

“Oh, naturally, yes!” Moominpappa nodded enthusiastically, buying the lie instantly. “If you’d like, you’re welcome to take him out back. I’m sure the two of you have plenty to talk about!”

“Yes, indeed.” The Joxter was salivating at the prospect. He’d never known he had a son, but that he knew… oh, well, he was very excited to know his son. 

“Let me help you.”

“Oh, it’s no bother-“

“Nonsense! Here you go.” Moominpappa scooped his arms under Snufkin Chair’s seat, and carried him out behind the house. “Much more private back here, hm?” He said, plopping Snufkin Chair down. “Keep in mind you may need to clean off his feet, with this mud.”

“Thank you dearly, pappa. I’m just so very glad to know I have a son.”

Moominpappa’s eyes shone with emotion. “I understand, Joxter. Fatherhood is a truly wonderful thing.”

He scurried back into the house, and the Joxter turned his attention wholly onto Snufkin Chair. A wicked grin was beginning to curl at his lips. 

“Hello Snufkin Chair,” the Joxter murmured. “Wouldn’t you agree that fatherhood is wonderful?”

Snufkin Chair said nothing, owing to the fact he was plastic and unable to move or speak. But this is precisely what had the Joxter so anticipatory. The Joxter could do anything to him, and Snufkin Chair would not be able to escape. Could do anything, and Snufkin Chair would not be able to confess to anyone what had happened. It was cruel, and wrong, and sickening. The Joxter knew this. But he could not resist. 

He straddled Snufkin Chair’s seat. Gloved fingers stroked along the curve of Snufkin’s mouth. 

Sitting on Snufkin Chair like this… it sent an exquisite shiver of pleasure along his spine. How _unusual_. The feeling coiled up in his chest and settled there, nudging against the inside of his ribs. 

It was a motivating, distracting feeling. Quite different from the sorts of feelings the Joxter was used to. He saw Mymbles, and they inspired a lazy tingling warmth; he saw Hemulens, and they inspired an eager, electric impulse to cause mischief. And this Snufkin Chair…

Oh, he could drive the Joxter to madness, he could. 

The Joxter looped his arms around the back of Snufkin Chair. The hard plastic dug unpleasantly into his forearms, but he didn’t mind. He was far too enraptured. He leaned forward and pressed whiskery lips to Snufkin Chair’s blank, flat face. One kiss. Another, another. Each more needy until his tongue was slathering along the plastic. 

When he pulled away, eyes half-lidded, it gave him a visceral thrill to see that Snufkin Chair’s expression had not changed. 

Despite the anguish that must be swirling inside, Snufkin Chair could not change his expression. His outward smile disguised a maelstrom of horror inside. Smiling on the outside, screaming on the inside. 

The Joxter’s hot breath puffed on Snufkin Chair’s cheek as he nuzzled him. “You want your pappa to sit on you?” He purred. “You like this, hmm?”

How delicious that Snufkin Chair could not say otherwise. 

“Yes, you do,” the Joxter murmured. “You love your pappa rubbing up on you.” Gloved hands dove to his pants and soon he had freed himself, stroking along his length exposed to the night air. It gave him extra pleasure to know that any second, someone could come out the backdoor of the Moomin house and see him raping his Snufkin Chair son. 

The Joxter scooted further up on the seat, till his length pressed against Snufkin Chair’s cool hard backrest. It was not the most comfortable or pleasant of sensations, truth be told. “You’re so cold,” the Joxter chastised, “and yet so hard, Snufkin Chair.. why must you send such mixed messages to your papa?”

He chortled at Snufkin’s static expression. 

It was a challenge to do, but he managed to awkwardly perch himself higher on the chair, his legs half-straightened and straddling the seat, so that his swollen dick might nuzzle at the bottom of Snufkin Chair’s clasped hands. 

“Do you like holding your papa’s cock?” The Joxter cooed. “Would you rub it for me?”

Snufkin Chair, of course, could do nothing, but the Joxter moved his hips so that there was some illusion that Snufkin’s modestly clasped hands were rubbing along his dick. 

“Yes, keep doing it like that…” the Joxter panted. “Good Snufkin Chair… You’re being a very good son, helping your father.”

The Joxter would have dearly liked to get his release purely from the sight of his dick nudging Snufkin Chair’s clasped hands, but sadly he required a bit more than that. He switched to using his hand, and stood uncomfortably nearly upright so that the head of his cock was near to Snufkin Chair’s lips.

“Take your daddy’s cum,” he moaned, “Yes, Snufkin Chair… take my load…”

Ecstasy roiled over him, a shudder ran through his body and his thighs and length twitched as cum dribbled down Snufkin Chair’s lips, chin, and scarf. 

The Joxter collapsed heavily into the seat, panting while his erection slowly flagged. 

“Lovely,” he sighed, eyes half lidded. “Just lovely.”

After a few moments more, catching his breath, he tucked himself back into his pants, and smiled at Snufkin Chair. “There now, did you enj-?”

The backdoor to the Moomin house burst open so fast that the Joxter nearly leapt of his skin. 

Moominpappa was rushing out, another Snufkin Chair clutched in his arms. “Joxter, Joxter!” He cried. 

The Joxter tilted his head to the side. Why was there… _another_ Snufkin Chair? “Moominpappa, whatever are you doing?”

Moominpappa stopped at Joxter’s side, panting, and plopped down the second Snufkin Chair. “I’m dearly, dearly sorry, Joxter. _This_ chair is your son,” he said, pointing at the new chair he had just brought. Then he pointed at the one with the Joxter’s cum drying on it. “ _That_ chair is nothing more than a chair we crafted to _look_ like Snufkin!”

“Oh, rats,” said the Joxter.

Somewhere in the background, a laugh track played.


End file.
